pour a little whiskey (before i head home)
by Emmasbeanies
Summary: Bellarke AU: She's stuck on the overnight train, trying to get home. Confined to the cabin with only the stubborn and moody Bellamy as company, something was bound to give. [on hiatus but I plan to continue at some point]
1. Part I

_**I'm not quite sure where I got the inspiration for this fic, but I just really needed these two to be thrown together with all of their tension and angst. Each chapter will cover another segment of the trip. This chapter is really just introductory...more will be revealed in later chapters. Thanks for reading &amp; reviewing! Also I should note: this is my first ever attempt at writing Bellarke, so go easy on me. xoxoH**_

* * *

"I need a ticket on the first train to D.C., as soon as possible."

"You should fly then, doll. Much faster."

The older woman behind the glass looked at Clarke sympathetically, as Clarke's breath fogged the glass between them. She'd been standing in line in the cold, waiting for the booth to open up for almost half an hour. Chicago winters showed no mercy.

"Flights are cancelled because of the snow. Can you help me or not?"

The woman glared at her. "Next train leaves at 10, sweetheart."

"I can't wait until the morning, this is an emergency."

"No, no," the woman laughed (and from the sound of it, she'd clearly been smoking her entire life). "Ten at night, doll. It's an overnight. Makes only a couple stops and then it's straight onto D.C. You'll be there in time for dinner tomorrow."

"I'll take it."

The woman printed Clarke's ticket and handed it to her. Clarke took it graciously, but couldn't help the small surge of fear spiking within her. She was going home. Normally this would be a happy occasion, but recent circumstances were causing her to dread this trip more than anything.

* * *

At 9:45, she swung her duffel bag back over her shoulder and headed out onto the platform, which was completely covered with snow. It looked beautiful, to be sure. Almost surreal, magical. The bright red passenger train stretched out before her, smoke billowing from the front. A soft amber glow shone from inside.

She handed her ticket to the attendant, who punched it and opened the door for her to board.

The cable car was practically deserted, save for a few people. She maneuvered through the aisle until she found an empty row of seats by a window to claim as her own.

She didn't feel prepared for this kind of trip. It was going to be morning before she'd be anywhere near D.C. She didn't have her laptop or a book to read or anything. The only things she'd managed to grab were a few days worth of clothes and little things she needed. In her purse she had only the essentials: wallet, cell phone, a drawing pad, and her favorite drawing pencils.

This train ride was going to last all night and well into the next day…what could she do to occupy herself?

The engine roared ahead of her, and she could feel the wheels of the train coming to life below-chug,chug,chug.

As she sat and got settled, she thought again of home, and what it would mean to be there. She'd be missing classes, which wasn't good when applications to med school were due soon, but this was something she needed to do. Her family needed her.

But still, the thought of getting off at the next stop had already crossed her mind.

* * *

The train slowed to a stop. They'd only been traveling for about an hour.

She'd packed up her things, and waited until everyone else got off before walking for the exit. Who was she kidding? She couldn't do this. She wasn't strong enough to face whatever hell was waiting for her back home.

But still, her father's voice kept sounding in her ear. "Something's happened Clarke. Your mother…I don't know how to fix it…"

The cold night air flooded around her as she stepped back out onto a station platform, still struggling to make up her mind.

If you don't go, you may regret it, she told herself. But if you do go, you could be putting your entire school career at stake. Was it worth it? Was it worth it to try and help someone who didn't even want the help?

Making her decision, she turned around to get back on the train, when she ran right into the chest of someone on their way out. The impact shocked her so much, she began to slip in the snow of the platform, until a firm hand around her arm caught her.

"Woah, woah, easy-" said the voice, deep and strong.

Her eyes flew up to meet the stranger's. He was taller than her, with brown hair that curled, falling onto his forehead near his light brown eyes. Certainly he was easy on the eyes-jacket of leather bringing out his features against the white snow. He was looking down at her, brows furrowed in what she couldn't tell-anger, perhaps confusion.

She looked back and forth between his eyes, unsure of what to say. Their faces were only a few inches apart, she could feel his hot breath on her face.

Suddenly she became very aware that his hand was still holding her arm.

"I, uh…thank you," she said, scrambling to stand back up. She brushed the snow off of her coat and picked her bag up.

"You're welcome," he said gruffly, clearly annoyed with her. "Just try to watch where you're going next time."

His comment surprised her. If he didn't care at all, why did he stop her from falling?

"Fine yeah, sorry," she said, flustered.

He stepped to the side of her and grabbed a bag he'd left on the platform. Before he was all the way back inside, he turned back to her.

"You coming or going?" he asked, impatiently.

Clarke breathed out through her nostrils, already mad at herself for the decision she'd made. She pointed inside the cabin, and he moved aside to let her pass.

As they walked back into the cabin, Clarke became very aware of the fact that there were no other passengers on the train. The next stop wasn't going to be until morning the next day, and she was stuck in this cable car with the jerk who got mad at her for slipping on fucking ice (like she could help it).

She went back to her previous seat, laying out her bags between herself and the window. She watched the stranger out of the corner of her eye as he walked down the aisle looking for a seat. He settled on the row opposite her, on the other side of the car. Not too close, but not too far either. He threw his bag down to the floor, crossing his arms and stretching his legs to rest his feet on the seat across from him.

He looked over at Clarke, who'd been watching him settle in. She smiled awkwardly, heat blushing her cheeks at the embarrassment of being caught, but he didn't respond. Instead he turned from her and looked out the window to watch the falling snow.

A few minutes later, the familiar chug-chug of the engine roared around them, and they were on their way.

Clarke sighed and settled into her seat. This was going to be a long night.


	2. Part II

Bored from looking out the window of the train, Bellamy sat up and grabbed his backpack-the only thing he'd brought with him on board-pulling out a book to read. (He always kept a few on hand, no matter what). In the back of the book was a folded sheet of paper, which he gently took out and opened to read in detail again.

_1801 Spruce Street. Apt 7. D.C._

The address had been scribbled in haste as he listened to the voice mail from Octavia on repeat-

"_I tried to tell you, Bell. We're serious about this and you can't stop us…"_

She didn't want him to put a stop to it. But he sure as hell was going to try.

He folded the sheet of paper back up and shut it in the back of the book, and then began to read from his book.

About twenty pages in, he was pulled out of it by a tapping sound. He couldn't figure out where it was coming from, until he looked over at the blonde across from him. She was looking out the window, holding a small notepad and pencil. She was tapping the pencil on the pad, almost out of nervous habit.

Bellamy cleared his throat. "Hey, do you mind?"

The girl looked over at him, snapping out of whatever trance she'd been in. "Huh?" she asked.

"The pencil."

Suddenly a look of realization came over her face. "Oh god, sorry."

She set the pencil and notepad next to her, and laid her head back onto the seat with a sigh. Bellamy turned back to his book, trying to hide a sly smile. He hated to admit it, but the blonde was kind of cute when she was flustered. He felt sort of bad for being so rude to her. It's not like she'd really deserved it. He was only taking his frustrations with his sister out on her. He considered for a moment asking her if she wanted to go find the coffee cart as a way to make amends, but instead, he turned back to his book.

* * *

She'd only been around this guy for a couple hours and he'd made her feel like an idiot twice already. She was trying not to get annoyed with him, but it was difficult when he was the only other person to converse with for the rest of the trip.

She remembered something her father had told her. _If someone doesn't have a smile, give them yours._

She'd always hated that saying, but for the sake of her sanity, she was going to try it tonight. Clarke looked over at the stranger, who'd now shed his leather coat and had tossed it on the seat opposite him. Her eyebrows raised at the sight-he had on a tight t-shirt, muscles clearly visible on his arms. It was very, very distracting. She shook her head, snapping herself out of the lustful stupor. _Get it together, Clarke._

She noticed that he was reading something (and she also noticed how gently he was holding the book, like it was really important to him).

"What's that you're reading?" she asked in a shaky voice. She wasn't very good at small talk.

He looks up at her, and then holds up the book so she can see the cover. It reads _Greek Mythology: Stories for the Ages._

"Oh, nice," she says. "My mother used to read me stories like that before I went to bed." She felt a little embarrassed, because why in the world did he need to know that?

A moment passed, and he nodded, turning back to his book. He was making this much more difficult than it had to be, but Clarke liked the challenge.

"What's your name?" she asked.

He looked up from his book again, and then closed it in a huff of frustration. She bit her lip, trying not to smile. She had to admit, he looked kind of cute when he was frustrated.

"Bellamy," he said.

He smiles when she doesn't say anything. (She'd thought he was cute before, but _oh god_-that smile).

"Well, what about you?" he asked.

She smiled back. "Clarke."

"Nice to meet you, Clarke," he says. "And um, I'm sorry about before…for being so rude."

(She was glad to learn that it wasn't completely hopeless).

"Oh, it's alright," she said. "Hey, you wouldn't happen to have any extra books in that bag of yours? I didn't bring any with me…plus I could more easily forgive you if that was the case."

He smiles a small smile, and then reaches down into his bag. He pulls out a small green leather bound book, tossing it to her. She read the cover, feeling the soft leather under her fingertips. _Hans Christian Anderson's Fairy Tales._ She looked back up at Bellamy, who no longer felt like a stranger.

"Thank you."

He scratched behind his ear (rather adorably). "No problem."

For a while, they continued on their journey together in comfortable silence.

* * *

She was reading a tale about a snow queen and long lost childhood loves when she felt herself start to fall asleep. Clarke shook her head to wake herself back up. She picked up her phone to check the time. 1:30 AM. No missed calls. She couldn't decide if that was a good sign or not.

_No news is good news_, her mother used to say.

She turned back to the book, but felt herself nodding off again a few minutes later. She went through the same routine a couple times-her head jerking back from almost falling forward, then frantically checking her phone.

Bellamy noticed.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked as she put her phone down one more time.

"Yeah…fine," she said. "I just need to stay awake in case my…in case someone calls."

He noticed the hesitation in her voice to tell him the truth. He couldn't really blame her-they barely knew each other. Still, he wished that she could trust him.

He doesn't want to continue the conversation, especially because of that, but he almost couldn't help himself. Something about Clarke was drawing him in. Maybe he was just desperate. But she had seemed like she was the kind of person who would be understanding, maybe even easy to talk to. Plus, it didn't hurt that she was beautiful. He spoke up again.

"What stop are you getting off at?"

"The last one."

"Hm," he nods. "That's a long night to stay up."

She lifted her palms and rubbed her face in exhaustion. "Yeah."

"Look," he said cautiously, "if you need to sleep, I can let you know if someone calls."

She looked down, considering his offer. She was aching to sleep and could barely hold up her head any longer. She wasn't really sure why, but she trusted this Bellamy, against her better judgement. There was just something about him. She nodded to him, handing back the book.

"Thanks."

She leaned back into her seat, curled her legs up against herself, and covered herself with her jacket. A few minutes later, she was asleep.

He watched her fall asleep, though he tried to look away. She just looked so peaceful-like all the worry that was on her face before had just drifted away with the train smoke outside her window. He took the opportunity to really look at her. She was gorgeous-around her face cascaded waves of blonde hair, fraying and a little frizzy. He thought of her eyes-the bright blue he couldn't compare to anything else he'd ever seen before. Her nose slanted down sharply towards her lips, which were red from nervous biting. But this Clarke, she was beautiful. Like she'd stepped out of a painting.

Around 4 in the morning, Clarke awoke to an empty cabin.


End file.
